like a plan.”
After a hand grip and shoulder bump, the men parted ways.
The next morning, after confirming a meeting with Dennis via text, downing a quick breakfast and enjoying a ride on his prize stallion, Thunder, Adam jumped into his brand-spanking-new limited-edition pickup and headed into the downtown of Breedlove, Nevada. The unincorporated town of just over two thousand residents was founded more than twenty years ago by Adam’s father, Nicholas, and a group of like-minded businessmen. It was about twenty-five miles northeast of the Las Vegas Strip, surrounded by mountains, with planned communities and a number of businesses in and around the quaint downtown square. Anchoring one corner of that square was a restaurant Adam owned called BBs, which stood for Breedlove Burgers, purchased specifically to showcase the beef raised at his ranch.
He reached the place and pulled into a crowded parking lot. An affordable menu, comfortable decor and stiff drinks had made the spot a favorite among the residents, especially the younger crowd. Adam drove around to the reserved parking at the back of the building and entered through the employee entrance.
“Hey, Adam!”
“Hola, Miguel.” Adam gave a shoulder bump to the restaurant’s head chef. “Qué pasa, hombre?”
“Nada, man.” Miguel shook his head at what he jokingly called Adam’s “gringo Spanish.”
“You come here to work or what?”
“I came here to eat a good burger. Think I can get a table?”
“I don’t know, boss. You might have to wait in line.”
Adam spoke to and joked with other employees as he continued past the building’s offices, through the kitchen and into the main dining room, where he spotted Dennis sitting at one of the tables by the window. What made Adam almost stop midstride and have to catch his breath was that his former high school friend wasn’t alone. If heaven was missing an angel, Adam knew where God could find her. Sitting at his burger joint—BBs.
Ryan Washington felt nauseous, and not just her stomach was upset. When inviting her to lunch, Dennis knew the last place his vegetarian sister would want to eat was a burger joint. He wasn’t the only one at fault. She should have known that Dennis’s inviting her anywhere held an ulterior motive, came with strings attached. She’d grown up adoring her older sibling and while she’d wished otherwise, they’d never been super close. Heck, before his call that morning she hadn’t even known he was in Las Vegas. At first she’d flat-out refused. For many reasons. She’d had a full day planned, a practice about to open. Then there was the very personal matter that she hadn’t shared with her family. But as was often the case, Dennis had persuasively changed her mind. After admitting there was a little more to his request than just having lunch, he’d told her about meeting an old friend who was now very successful. That he hoped to do business with him and that her presence might help. When she asked why, he’d very politically incorrectly said, “Because my friend likes pretty girls.”
That should have been enough to reinstate her refusal. Dennis wasn’t generous with compliments. For her brother to call her pretty meant he really felt he needed her help. And hinting to set her up with one of his friends? Not in a million years. What kind of business was this? And what if said business meant he’d spend more time in Las Vegas?
So there she sat, handling what work she could by way of her cell phone, mentally blocking out odors and wanting the meeting to be over.
“There he is!”
Ryan looked up when her brother spoke, and momentarily froze. The man—or was it the brother of Adonis?—who returned Dennis’s greeting was gorgeous, as though he’d stepped right out of a Wild West billboard ad and walked in for a meal. Everything about him screamed cowboy—Stetson hat, plaid shirt, snug-fitting denims and Western boots—all on a body for which it looked as though the clothes had been designed. But a cowboy with clean, manicured nails? That observation didn’t fit with her assumption at all. That could never happen. Tall, dark and handsome was way too common a statement to use for the hunk in front of her. But it fit. He was toned and fine with close-cropped curls, dark, intense eyes and lips made for kissing. He smiled and revealed the knockout punch, a dimple. Ryan had always been a sucker for those.
For once, a temporarily speechless Ryan was grateful for her older brother’s big mouth. She dropped her eyes down to her cell phone to call up composure and pull reasonable bits of calm and collected back from whatever part of her mind they’d fled.
“Good to see you,” Dennis continued, as Hunkalicious sat down in one of two remaining wooden seats around the square table. “Couldn’t believe when the waiter told us this was your place. Guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, you running a cattle ranch and all. The server who seated us swore the burgers here were the best in the West. Didn’t she, Ryan?”
Ryan meant to look at her brother, but of their own accord her eyes were drawn to the ones now boring into her with a casual intensity, deep chocolate orbs that fairly twinkled, framed by slightly arched eyebrows and long curly lashes.
She refocused on Dennis. “Yes, she did.”
Actually Ryan hadn’t been paying attention while Dennis flirted with the server. But since this guy her brother was trying to impress owned the establishment, she felt a little creative conversation was justified.
“You remember me talking about the Breedloves, right? The family who owns the CANN hotel on the Strip? This is one of the brothers, Adam. He and I went to high school together.”
“Hello.” Adam’s smile was warm and genuine.
“Hi.” Ryan suddenly felt shy, a rare occurrence. But she maintained eye contact.
“I don’t think you ever met Ryan,” Dennis continued. “She’s my kid sister. Growing up she was a nuisance. I rarely allowed her around.”
Ryan’s brow raised at her brother’s comment. Not that it wasn’t true. As a precocious eight-year-old with a newfound love for board games and sports, she’d followed her fearless, then-fourteen-year-old athletic big brother around like a puppy, wanted to be where he was and to do what he did. For him, it was so not cool.
“I can’t imagine you being a nuisance.” Adam held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
His voice reminded her of how a good brandy tasted—earthy, spicy, with a warmth that burned gently on its way down. She took his hand and noted its softness. He may own a ranch, but this definitely wasn’t a man who spent his days herding cattle or baling hay.
“Likewise,” she replied.
It was the merest caress, just a light squeeze of the hand she placed in his. But for Ryan it transmitted all sorts of messages. That he was thoughtful and gentle, yet strong and secure. He was probably a fabulous lover. Ryan had no idea why the thought crossed her mind. She couldn’t have cared less, but there was something about him...
Ryan wasn’t the only one smitten. Am I smitten? Surely not! At least half a dozen other females within her line of vision were, and definitely their cute server with perfectly coiffed twists, who bounced up to their table wearing a smile as bright as her starched white shirt.
“Hey, Adam!”
